


Just a Little Longer

by okaynextcrisis



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 09:24:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2019774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okaynextcrisis/pseuds/okaynextcrisis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after.  Missing scene between Disquiet and The Oath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Little Longer

For an instant, when Bill wakes up, he does not know where he is.

Something is just slightly different, just subtly  _off_ , even before he opens his eyes. Bill has been waking up in his rack, in his quarters, morning after morning, week after week, year after year; he knows the sounds, the smells, the  _feel_  of it intimately.

This is not his rack.

He's moving automatically, before his eyes are even open—

He's startled by a soft exhalation against his neck.

He's not alone in the bed.

"Five more minutes," Laura Roslin murmurs in his ear.

He tries to smother his laughter; he doesn't want to wake her, doesn't want to break the moment—

He remembers, now.

_By now, the Marines stationed outside Laura's door don't even bother trying to stop him. He knows it's late. He knows the President doesn't want to be disturbed._

_He also knows Laura's waiting for him._

_Inside, the lights are dimmed, the small room filled with candles. Laura is curled up on her rack, a book open in front of her. She considers him over the rim of her glasses. "If you're here to talk about the fleet—"_

_Bill crosses the length of the room, crouches down so that they are level. "I'm not."_

_Slowly, Laura smiles. She closes her book._

_They do not speak after that._

He pulls Laura into his chest. "Morning," he whispers in her ear.

"Morning," she mumbles, the words muffled, her face pressed into his chest.

He has heard Laura Roslin say that word at least a thousand times over the past few years.

He's never heard her say it like this.

Even without a clock in easy reach, he knows it's 0600 hours, exactly. That's when he always wakes up, when his day always starts.

Just usually not like this.

He has to get dressed, he has to sign papers, he has to look at star maps, he has to get to CIC…he knows all of that, he does, but with Laura trailing kisses up his neck, he just can't seem to  _feel_  it.

He wonders what would happen if he just stayed here all day…given how things have been going in the fleet lately, how much worse could it get, really?

The phone rings beside them, the shrill sound intruding upon their haven. He has to go, he knows he does, and yet…

"You should answer that," Laura murmurs, the wicked glint in her eyes giving no quarter, as she makes her way up to his ear.

He wonders what would happen if he just stayed in this bed with Laura for the rest of his life. If they're all going to die, anyway, shouldn't he at least die  _happy_?

But the phone keeps ringing, and he should care, he should, and yet…

"You can always come back  _later_ ," she whispers, as she reaches his lips, lingers there.

But he doesn't want to  _come back_. He doesn't want to  _visit_. He wants…

"When are you coming home?"

The words are out of his mouth before he has a chance to consider them, think them through, but even so, he doesn't regret them. He's tired of this. He and Laura have already been apart so often, separated so much…why are they wasting another instant, allowing another second of distance? Why can't they just  _go home_?

Laura props her head up on one hand, her pale green eyes considering him carefully. "Bill…"

He presses a kiss to her bare scalp. "I miss you," he admits. "My sink's uncluttered, my robe's always where I left it…"

Laura's lips quirk. "I have my own robe, you know."

"You like mine better," Bill reminds her.

"Mmm," she agrees. "It's all nice and worn in."

He waits, his hands tracing patterns across her back. He can't push her…if she's not ready…

But he's so very tired, and he so very badly wants to go  _home_. And  _home_ is no longer his things, his quarters…home is Laura, with her papers scattered everywhere and her lipstick on his sink and her shoes always underfoot. Home is her ripped-up notecards and cast-off headscarves, home is both of them squeezing in the time to share dinner and pretending they hadn't scheduled it that way deliberately, home is looking up from his desk and seeing her at hers.

But if she can't handle that right now…

Laura's arms tighten around him. "I was about to finish this book, anyway," she says. "I'll need to pick out a new one."

_Thank the gods._

"You left  _Searider Falcon_  behind," he whispers.

That had hurt worst of all.

Laura smiles crookedly. "I didn't want to know the ending just yet."

Bill knows the ending here, he does, and yet…

_I like it so much that I don't want it to be over. So I'm saving it._

_Maybe I should do that…_

_That's a bad idea, maybe not…_

"We'll read it tonight," he whispers. They can't afford to waste a moment. Not anymore.

Laura shakes her head, a smile playing across her feature. "You're going to be busy tonight."

His eyes never leaving hers, Bill reaches over, takes the phone off the hook.

They can do without him for another hour.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Bill and Laura (still, sigh) belong to Ron Moore; title belongs to the Violent Femmes.


End file.
